Subscribe to my newsletter to be notified of new episodes: https://leopagefiore.beehiiv.com/subscribe

From the memoir of Ezekiel Blake:

After meeting Baldur’s brother, I was soon assailed by thoughts of my own family and plagued with guilt over leaving them behind. Yes, I left them to ensure their safety—to prevent myself from preying on them—but that didn’t change the fact that I abandoned my family, leaving Lydia without a husband and my little Abigail without a father.

I took to observing them from time to time, spying on their conversations while lurking on the roof of our house. Elijah, my brother, had assumed my role as breadwinner, supporting my wife and daughter in my stead. Elijah and Lydia, though having no desire to wed, raised Abigail together as if Elijah were her father. Lydia and Abigail flourished in the years following my death. They mourned my passing for a time, but the pain of my loss waned in the years I kept away. I was glad they no longer wallowed in grief, but it also saddened me to find they had moved on, for I still mourned their absence.

I did not inform Baldur of my periodic visits to my former home, but he soon figured out what I was up to and confronted me, expressing disapproval.

“I won’t reveal myself to them,” I insisted, standing before Baldur with my head bowed. “I just want to look upon them. Nothing more.”

Baldur lounged in the sitting room of our mansion, arms folded and legs crossed. “You’ve gained some control of your instincts these past four years, but you could still lose yourself to the bloodlust, and the scent of our mortal kin is an especially potent lure to our kind.”

“I’ll keep my distance.”

Baldur sniffed in disdain and took up a tome he’d been transcribing one of his novels in. “Fine, then you may look in on them.” He continued writing.

I lingered a moment longer. “I love them.”

Baldur didn’t look up, continuing to write. “I know you do.”

I bit my lip. “I love you as well.”

Baldur’s quill stilled, but he didn’t look up. “You love me for now,” he whispered, a bleak expression on his brutish face. I wanted to assure him I would still love him, even after my enthrallment faded away. But how could I know that for sure?

For the next six years, we did all we could to build a genuine relationship that would endure beyond the enthrallment. We traversed every corner of London together, seeing theatre performances or attending formal soirees we received no invitations to. After every outing, we would return home, and Baldur would draw me into a tender embrace, kiss my cheek, and assure me that no matter how I felt after the enthrallment passed, he would protect me and do everything in his power to bring me happiness.

When not in Baldur’s company, I lurked about my family’s home, listening to Lydia singing while she cooked or mended clothes in the sitting room, observing my brother as he toiled and honed his woodworking skills in his workshop, or watching my daughter play with her dolls or tend to an old cat she’d secreted into the house. To my delight, she named the scruffy creature after me. I missed my family so much, and I very well could have haunted them for decades.

But then, in 1630, ten years since my mortal death, Elijah and Lydia decided to leave London, yearning for the country. I agonized over their impending departure, knowing that I would lose them forever if I did not act. But what was I to do? Go to them and beg them to stay? No, I couldn’t reveal myself to them. All unanointed who learned of our existence were to be eliminated. Could I instead leave London and shadow them in the countryside as I’d done in London? Would Baldur agree to such a relocation?

When I brought this matter to him in his study, Baldur rose from his desk and fixed me with an exasperated look. “You want us to leave London—abandon our home—just so you can stalk your unanointed family … where?”

I lowered my head. “They’re going to the Cotswolds.”

“Where is that?”

“It’s … west of here … about ninety miles away.”

“Ninety miles!” Baldur rounded the table to face me.

I took an instinctive step back. “Or about eighty if we travel by wing rather than the roads. The journey wouldn’t be difficult for the two of us.”

“Your family is walking ninety miles just to live on some no-account farm?”

“Lydia had relatives in the Cotswolds. She’s not sure if they still reside there, but she and Elijah wish to try and locate them.” I took Baldur’s hands. “I think we could be happy in the Cotswolds. It’s said to be a beautiful area—rolling grasslands and villages built of golden-colored stone—the region is well-known for its limestone.”

“Rocks? That’s what this area is well-known for? Damn rocks?” Baldur massaged his temples. “Ezekiel, I spent my whole miserable childhood isolated with my family and our servants in an ugly castle out in the middle of the Black Forest. I have no desire to leave the comforts of our mansion or the entertainment this city provides just to skulk around the countryside.”

My shoulders wilted. “Can we at least follow them so I know where they settle? Then we can come back and I’ll—”

“What?” Baldur cut me off. “You’ll what? Travel miles back and forth just to look at some humans every once in a while.”

“They’re my family.” I wrung my hands. “I don’t want to lose them.”

“You already lost them!” Baldur stopped, took a deep breath, and squeezed my hands. “You died, Ezekiel. You died and were reborn as something far superior to those mortals who once loved you. You can never again be in their lives. They grieved, and then they moved on. You were ready to move on as well. You went four years in the beginning without seeing them.”

“That wasn’t because I moved on,” I moaned. “I didn’t realize how much time had passed. I was distracted … by you.”

Baldur’s eyes narrowed. “I distracted you?”

I shook my head. “I’m not saying it was your fault, but those four years … I don’t know. Please, Baldur, I’m not ready to let them go.”

“Fine, then we’ll Anoint them.”

I jerked back. “What?”

Baldur turned away and paced the room, hands crossed behind him and expression unemotional. “If you can’t let them go, then we’ll Anoint. It could incur the first scions ire for us to Anoint three people at once, but I will take that risk for you. Your brother—your wife—your child—they won’t leave when enthralled to us.”

“No!” I lunged forward and seized Baldur by the shoulders. “I won’t let you! You can’t do to them what you did to me!”

“What I did to you?” Baldur snapped, grabbing my wrists and shoving me back. “I saved you! You were dying of consumption, and I gave you my blood! You should be thanking me!”

“You murdered me! I begged you not to hurt me, and you still bit into my throat and drained my life away!”

Baldur looked stricken. “I thought it would be easier for you if it ended quickly. You were so sick, and I didn’t want you to suffer more than necessary.”

“Even if it meant suffering longer, I would have been with my family!” I cried. “I would have had more time with them!”

“But you weren’t with them. They locked you away in your bedroom so you wouldn’t get your wife or daughter sick. Only your brother tended to you.”

“Then at least I could have said goodbye to Elijah! You took that from me! Because of you, I died alone! I died in terror!”

Baldur reached out to me. “Ezekiel, I didn’t mean—”

I slapped his hand away and stormed out of the room. “You should have let me die!”

If you’re enjoying this series, please be sure to Like, Subscribe, Share with your friends, and leave a Comment. Thank you, and have a wonderful day!